Comedies (film)

The Leo Grande Snub & More Oscar-Related Reasons I’m Pissed Off, Part I

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Good Luck to You, Leo Grande. An enjoyable, meaningful film about a woman dealing with sex and her self-worth in middle age. A nuanced story, with a sympathetic portrait of sex workers. It gets nada from the Academy. A subtle, star-making turn by Daryl McCormack–ignored. And Emma Thompson not only snubbed, but not even listed as an Oscar snub. People couldn’t shut up about JLO not getting a nomination for Hustlers, but we’re going to forget that two-time-Oscar winner Emma Thompson was overlooked for one of her finest performances?

Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler Get No Nominations, and Ana de Armas Does for Razzie-Nominated Blonde. I read the book Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates, even liked it. I am not sure the director did. That film? Oh no. No. No. No. Was de Armas good in it? For what she had to work with, which was not much. That’s not an Oscar nomination. Look, I’m a Marilyn fan. That woman had some serious chops as a comedienne. But that tired trope of fragile waif Marilyn again, with some gross additions thrown into the mix? That film deserves NOTHING. I am sick.

Tár. It seemsTodd Haynes makes a movie every decade, and with the best of materials and actresses, manages to turn wonderful storylines and potential into snores.

Triangle of Sadness. A fight over a check that should have taken five minutes being stretched to such ludicrous proportions that I forgot what the movie was about. A diarrhea-puke-&-other gross bodily-function scene that takes excruciating amounts of time for NO REASON (and doesn’t make me laugh once). And, of course, the earth-shattering message that power and money corrupt? This is some shit, people. Literal and figurative. NO FEMALE DIRECTORS were chosen so that this gem could make it into the best-directing category.

Top Gun Maverick. I admit it: I didn’t see the thing. I couldn’t bear it after I found out Kelly McGillis wasn’t invited back. I’ll watch this, that Avatar sequel (please), and other action extravaganzas nominated for Oscars once a female blockbuster gets a berth on the list. In the meantime, please everyone, stop bellyaching that crowd pleasers never make it, while nominating male-only fare like Master and Commander and Gladiator. Why is everyone so forgetful? Crowd pleasers OFTEN make it, and even win. What the hell was Braveheart? A subtle indie film? What about Jaws? The Greatest Show on Earth (1952)? I mean, NO ONE saw those, right?

And I’m just getting started. Rant, Part I over. Stay tuned for Part II….

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The (Strange, Silly) Guest (2014)

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You have to hand it to Dan Stevens. Two years after his dramatic Downton Abbey exit, he starred in the camp treasure, The Guest, putting behind him one type of ponderous silliness for a decidedly lighter-weight version.

The Guest bears all the hallmarks of Lifetime fare in the first half: a mysterious, ridiculously attractive stranger. Hints that his motives—and past—might not be as innocent as his southern charm and “ma’am” courtesy would suggest.

A young woman who suspects him despite her parents’ trust (and her dad’s overeagerness to have a drinking buddy). And a young brother too pleased by the stranger’s help with his bullying problem to fear the degree of the man’s violence. Had that been all that The Guest was, I would have been happy enough.

But oh no, The Guest is much more. Because halfway through, it takes an abrupt 90 degree turn into campish horror/slapstick, without bothering to clarify basic character motives or anything else. In so doing, it gave me the best burst of unquenchable laughter I’ve experienced in some time.

Dan Stevens just OWNS this film, reveling in his goofy role as only an actor with a deep-seated love for black humor could do. His tiniest gesture is hilarious. The film even pays tribute to a famous scene in one of my favorite noirs from the 40s—which I’ll link to, but won’t reveal. Because to give anything away in the second half would be a mistake. Instead, I’ll just give you the basic premise:

David (Stevens) visits the parents of his dead army buddy. They ask him to stay. Because of course they do. The mother (Sheila Kelley) plays Debbie Hunt in Singles, and she has always expected the best.

Soon, David’s actions become suspicious, and then the plot turns downright bonkers. Because of course it does. The actor playing the father, Leland Jones Orser, starred in the (deeply dark) black comedy Very Bad Things, which should have foretold it for me.

The viewing pleasure isn’t hurt by just how sexy Dan Stevens is in the role. He has clearly spent a lot of gym time in preparation, and his lean, beautiful body is a nice complement to those riveting blue eyes. One can hardly blame the daughter/heroine (Maika Monroe) for waiting until his behavior goes truly off the rails to seek help.

And one can hardly blame you for enjoying every minute of this eye-candy-filled, ridiculous romp of a film.

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Who Is the Biggest Charmer?

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The Talk of the Town (1942) is a joyous experience. It features a romantic triangle between three actors who are absurdly charming: Jean Arthur, Cary Grant, and Ronald Colman. It’s a bit of an odd tale, but frankly, with these three people in the mix, who cares about plot?

You can’t watch Cary Grant’s smirking, musing, or flirting….

Hear Jean Arthur’s lovely tweety voice…

Or witness the sweetness of Colman’s subtle smile….

without giving into them, can you?

The only question is which of the three is the MOST charming.

Certain actors carry a patina of their roles with them. To me, Julia Roberts, Tom Hanks, Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, and Denzel Washington are all like this. Try to watch Tom Hanks without the echoing sweetness of Josh (Big) and his other early comedies winning you over; I can’t make it through half a minute of any of his movies without already loving the guy.

But it’s not often that THREE actors this charming share the screen, as they do in The Talk of the Town.

The story is a peculiar mishmash. Jean Arthur’s Nora, a teacher, is renting her house to a renowned legal scholar, Professor Michael Lightcap (Colman). Her old school chum, Leopold, is on the run from the law, accused of starting a fire in a mill that killed his foreman. He hides in her home right as Lightcap arrives and pretends to be her gardener to fool the new resident.

Lightcap may be the only person who can save Leopold’s life. The mill’s owner is egging on a mob to kill Leopold for his alleged crime. The fugitive, annoyed by Lightcap’s cold legal logic, moves Lightcap with his passion and firebrandy ways (couldn’t resist), which are what made the mill owner hate him to begin with. Nora finagles a job as a secretary to Lightcap to protect Leopold from being discovered by the mob–or by Lightcap.

A triangle really is the right word, as Nora is impressed by Lightcap’s prestige, intelligence, and ethics, and torn between these new feelings and her old affection for Leopold.

Yet it would be a mistake to leave Leopold and Lightcap out of the mix: the film is as much about intellectual as romantic affection. Whether Lightcap is most drawn to Leopold or Nora is a question that never gets answered.

And who can blame him? This is a charm off, my friends, and in every corner of this Isosceles is an actor—and by extension, character–you can’t help watching. Let’s dig a little deeper:

Jean Arthur

Whether she’s wisecracking as Saunders (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington), flirting without realizing it (The More, the Merrier), baffled (Easy Living), or earnest (Shane), Jean Arthur is adorable. I love seeing her in oversized PJs.

The look somehow captures her appeal–the way people underestimate her until that feisty, birdlike voice and the frustration she evokes so well (she should be annoying but somehow never is) draw you in and win you over.

Ronald Colman

I fell for Ronald Colman in Random Harvest, and woe betide the woman who ever watches that film: his “forgotten man” will haunt you. With a voice nearly as memorable as Arthur’s, the broken veteran in Random Harvest moves seamlessly from his shaken condition to the debonair man of consequence. He is equally convincing in both versions of himself. His gruffness in The Talk of the Town‘s start, therefore, never fools me for a second. This, my friends, is a sweetheart, make no mistake–and thus he proves to be. These two films came out in the same year, so perhaps others didn’t have this early love affair with him. But watch him in anything, and you fall for the man.

Cary Grant

Cary Grant, of course, is the most obvious charmer–playing, as he often admitted himself, the part of Cary Grant his whole life. He is never fully convincing as the local troublemaker driven by his ideals–until he questions his own judgment due to his admiration for Lightcap.

Cary Grant often seems to be in reflective mode, and his torn feelings about Lightcap play over that gorgeous face. But then, we are on his side as soon as we recognize that face. This is the slightly disreputable version of the actor you can’t help but adore, the rabble rouser with a naughty streak, with a pinch of The Awful Truth and Topper. You’re never convinced this is the Cary Grant of Suspicion, though he is accused of murder. Like with Arthur, you can’t ever count him out, even when he’s romantically (and ethically) paired against a potential Supreme Court justice, Lightcap.

So who do YOU think the winner of this charm-off would be, however it may end in the film? I leave it to you to decide.

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In Praise of USA Up All Night

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Today I felt a pang on hearing about Gilbert Gottfried’s death. Of course I found him annoying, but I also loved him. He–and Rhonda Shear–gave me USA Up All Night just when I needed it, a show that taught me valuable lessons that have stayed with me ever since. Here’s what I learned from that weekend stalwart, which, for the uninitiated, basically consisted of terrible, terrible movies playing from 11 pm /12 am till the wee hours on Fridays and Saturdays, with interludes of jokes, skits, and commentaries from the hosts.

  1. You Can Find Amusement in So Many Things. Camp was always appreciated in my family: my Uncle Ed’s running commentary on Slugs was a family reunion highlight. But in between those beloved family visits, I had Gottfried and Rhonda, poking fun of absurdly terrible B movies that no other channel would even play. Even Rhonda’s ridiculously perky enunciation of UP could make me laugh. To this day, I find enjoyment in so much pop culture that others don’t, and that’s partly thanks to USA Up All Night.
  2. Don’t Take Your Job Too Seriously. True, it’s hard to not laugh about your job when you’re commenting on Cheerleaders Beach Party. But Gottfried’s constant amusement (you could definitely see “This is my job?” in his expression) reminded me that every job doesn’t have to be a forever-career or vocation. Sometimes, you pay the bills doing something silly, and that’s OK. (And most of us do have absurd tasks even in the most serious of jobs.)
  3. Binging Movies Is Fun. Oh, you poor souls who didn’t learn this fact until Netflix. Gottfried and Rhonda (and the earlier host I never watched, Caroline Schlitt) taught us Gen Xers this back in the early 90s. Think of all the years of joy you missed!
  4. Embrace Your Awkward Self. Gottfried and Rhonda were never cool. They were goofy and absurd and nerdy and silly. But because they clearly didn’t care WHAT they were, they reminded me, an awkward teenage girl, that I didn’t have to be cool to have fun.
  5. Make Solitary Friday Nights an Occasion. In my twenties and early thirties, I moved states several times, each time alone. I was always either single or dating someone long distance, so Friday nights were rough on me. I hated the time it took to be moved from new friends’ weekday to their weekend rituals. To stave off the loneliness, I’d splurge on Fridays: wine, chocolate, good bread, and cheese. Maybe even takeout. I’d grab that remote and begin my movies, and all was right with the world. Sometimes, my preparations led to unhelpful comments by store clerks. (“Oooh-hoooh, honey, you’re having a romantic night tonight, huh?”) But in time, these Fridays became so peaceful and cathartic that I missed them when I had plans. (A bit of a foretaste of middle age, huh?) Would I have known to make an occasion of movie binging each Friday, without Gottfried and Rhonda’s example?
  6. You Never Know What Your Impact Will Be. I don’t think Gottfried could have anticipated that he’d be celebrated by a writer for USA Up All Night when he died thirty years later, do you? You just never know.

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Orphaning Carrie Killed And Just Like That

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Sex and the City had this odd way of pretending its heroines were parentless. Sure, there was a reference or two, and that lovely episode about Miranda dealing with her mother’s death. But overall, the show just pretended the women had no moms or dads. For six seasons and two movies, the lack of parents enabled the show to stick with sunnier, lighter fare, favoring romance over family drama.

And then the reboot came, presenting the show’s writers with a conundrum: how do you talk about women in their fifties—especially childfree ones—without dealing with aging parents?

Unfortunately, the writers’ solution was to conflate the fifties and eighties, giving the ladies hip replacements and their husbands hearing issues and farmers’-market-forgetfulness. Even the elderly parents of the new characters are pressuring their kids to get married or use their time differently—in other words, things parents of 30-year-olds do.

And how grim these writers make aging seem! Look how much more measured—and funny—Grace and Frankie is in tackling the same ground—and for much older women.

What Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte would really be doing if they were in their fifties is worrying about their parents’ minds, limbs, and ailments. And for those of us who have been living with the slow-burn terror that our parents will catch COVID—or grieving the loss of those who died of it—the fear of parental aging is what’s keeping us up (not partying neighbors or mysterious dinging sounds). That’s why the erasure of our worry from the experience of 50-year-old women is infuriating in a franchise that used to get us.

What important things this show could have covered about what single, childfree women face in their fifties! What if Carrie’s married siblings with children had expected her to move home to take care of their sick mother or father? How would she have dealt with that as a single woman whom they assumed had time they didn’t?

The parentless state of our heroines also killed so many avenues for humor, like mothers’ attempts to comfort their daughters’ PMS worsening with age by saying, “Don’t worry. You don’t have long to worry about that.” (Just my mom? OK, the cheese stands alone.) Or dads bluffly cheering daughters after bad Bumble dates by saying, “Aren’t you about ready for Our Time? That’s much better.”

Of course, those weren’t the only humorous avenues And Just Like That neglected. Exactly how much did your frugal friend invest in wrinkle cream once she spotted Zoom’s skill for highlighting neck skin sagging? What collection of ring lights has your single buddy amassed to ensure she looks young for those selfies of her breasts for Hinge dates?

And the thing is, your friends in their 50s will confess these acts openly to strangers. That’s one of the beauties of aging: you don’t care what others think. We are ALL Samantha now. I remember the joy of canceling plans for the first time because I didn’t feel like taking a shower. Or the admission that yes, I was watching Lifetime reruns on a Saturday night, or organizing my earrings instead of going to a party. How much I would have loved Carrie dropping by Miranda’s because the latter couldn’t tear herself away from a marathon binging of Tiger King! (An update on the rabbit episode. LOL.) Remember when Carrie struggled to get her friends together? Now THAT’s a struggle for your 50s.

A podcast for Carrie never made much sense to me either—not for a woman who loves being seen (especially not a 90s-era radio show masquerading as a podcast). What does our former sex columnist think of Love Is Blind? Or 90-Day Fiancé? What if she hosted some cheesy reality dating show, like Love Island? That could have been so funny, unlike Che’s humorless standup.

And what silly notions about being woke these AJLT writers have! Is this an after-school special from 1985? What women in their fifties are suddenly realizing they have no non-white friends? I know these characters aren’t as reflective as they could be, but I do believe they have eyes.

What would these women be facing? Well, these characters might be worrying about terminology they use when it comes to race, ethnicity, and gender. Miranda would not have blundered as much as she did in class. But I could see her using a term from five years ago. Or Charlotte, Carrie, or Miranda could be chided by BIPOC friends for a clueless privilege moment. If AJLT wanted to address race in a more organic way, why not have Lily recovering from the trauma of the racism she dealt with during COVID, or Charlotte appalled by other parents fighting critical race theory?

(About midway through the series, I began to wonder whether Michael Patrick King was paying us all back for calling Carrie an unlikeable narcissist by making Charlotte and Miranda so much worse. Why else reinvent history, and make Carrie suddenly the most tolerant and understanding of the bunch? You think Miranda should have been the star? he might have said. I’ll show you…..)

I was, of course, happy to see Miranda, who is played by a public-school advocate, re-inventing her life to do something she found meaningful. That’s what women in their 50s do: Try to find new purpose in their lives. But AJLT had her dump that idealism to play fangirl to a bad comic (how like Carrie that decision was). Che was a missed opportunity, of course. I would have liked Carrie recognizing in Che’s struggles some similarities between what she had dealt with in feeling isolated as a single woman. Their experiences would never be quite the same. But empathy is born of comparison. Carrie didn’t have to fully get it. But she could have begun….

I didn’t expect much of the reboot, I admit, despite my love for Sex and the City. The movies, after all, had already done damage. Samantha’s absence, I knew, would do more. Still, I didn’t expect to be this disappointed. I’m younger than these women, but they always echoed some measure of my experience—and some measure of my future.

Until now.

Parents couldn’t have saved And Just Like That entirely. But it would have been a start.

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5 Awful Romances We’re Supposed to Like

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  1. Romeo & Juliet. This guy was in love with another gal last week. This is not a romance for the ages; this is a guy who can’t handle being without a girlfriend. Juliet, why didn’t you hold out for something better?
  2. The Teens of Say Anything. Diane (Ione Skye), I’m sure you’re going to have a great time on your British adventure while your boyfriend, Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack), is hanging out in your apartment watching kickboxing videos all day. I know your daddy, the embezzler, set the bar for men low, but come on.
  3. The Cheaters of Something Borrowed. Hollywood has such a low opinion of us really. We’re asked to get behind Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin), who had sex with her best friend’s fiancé, Dex (Colin Egglesfield). We’re supposed to root for the cheaters’ love to prevail because the betrayed friend, Darcy (Kate Hudson), is vain, and Dex used to like Rachel. Ummm, what??
  4. Heathcliff & Catherine of Wuthering Heights. Ahhh, the sociopath and the narcissist. Now that’s a coupling that we all want to see, right?
  5. The Unnamed Heroine & Maxim de Winter of Rebecca. So, when you find out your husband killed his ex in a rage, the proper reaction is NOT to feel better (because now you know he didn’t love her). That makes you almost as creepy as he is. I’ve never rooted so hard for a (dead) villain of a story.

Those are five of the least ideal couples that novels, plays, and movies would have us celebrate. I can come up with ten more without trying. Which couples do you find the most laughably awful?

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Mae West: The Unchanging Heroine

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I grew up resenting a lot of the rom-com fare on television and film. Always, it felt, the woman had to change to find love. Sandy in Grease was just the start: Learn to strut. Show that cleavage. Pull your hair out of the bun! Relax! Be feminine! Learn to bake or something.

Maybe that’s why I love Mae West so much: In her films, she’s the only one who never has to change. Anyone who doesn’t get her? They better start, if they want Mae’s company. (And they ALWAYS want Mae’s company.)

Mae’s unrepentant, very human, hilarious heroines are perfect, just as they are. Cleo from Goin’ to Town (1935) is just one example.

Cleo decides she wants a particular upper-crust guy. After her (literal) lassoing of him doesn’t win him, she decides to change herself over into a classy lady. Which pretty much means she convinces everyone she already is one.

**Some spoilers**

Oh sure, Cleo picks up some new hobbies: horse betting, husband collecting, and opera performances. But Cleo is Cleo. When she plots her rise, we all know she’s going to get there.

Favorite Moments

The fashionable ladies visit her after her fashionable marriage. Trying to insult her, they press her about her lineage:

Socialite: “Speaking of relatives, Mrs. Colton, have your ancestors ever been traced?”

Cleo: “Well, yes, but they were too smart, they couldn’t catch ’em.”

She says this, mind you, while intent on cracking nuts.

And, of course, who can forget the scene when Cleo plays Delilah? (Her description of Delilah is “one lady barber who made good.”)

While she sings in a high register (therefore, I assume, proving she has the pedigree to pull off opera), she does her va-voom hip shimmies between notes, proving that she’ll always be a dance hall girl.

And in a Mae West movie? There’s nothing better to be.

I’ve written before about how Mae can always pull me out of a bad mood. That’s why I chose to re-watch one of her films for the Classic Movie Blog Association’s fall blogathon, Laughter Is the Best Medicine. Don’t miss the other entries from my talented peers!

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90s Films

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Have you ever wondered why Winona Ryder’s character in Reality Bites has friends? Or why Julia Delpy doesn’t have legions of men following her off the train in Before Sunrise? Or why every person in customer service doesn’t watch Clerks? So have we. Join my friends’ and me for our second series on our podcast, Nobody Knows Anything.

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They Live: Best Conspiracy Film?

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Join my friends’ and my new podcast! Tomorrow we feature the gum-chewing, sunglass-wearing Roddy Piper as he breaks through all the conventions of conspiracy films we’ve discussed so far. Don’t miss it.

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